Noi Si Cerul

I'd was floating over a couch, holding a TabletPC of sorts. I managed to push a button on it to get me to sink into my seat, it felt like an old Nintendo Advantage controller in my hands all of a sudden.

Getting up I wandered into the kitchen, where I saw a dark-skinned young man. There were hardwood floors, granite countertops, and all the markings of a really nice high-end house. A small bulldog-like dog came running at me and attacking me.

me: "Aaaah, dogs! Why do they do this! Real dogs like me."

indian youth: "He attacks because he is healthy."

me: "Well it's not healthy for me if he eats me. How do I fight?"

indian youth: "There are two, turn them on one another."

I managed to convince a second dog to come and start attacking the first. The youth just watched. I still had a dog latched onto my wrist.

me: "If you can, would you mind helping and getting this thing off me?"

He somehow got the dogs off, and they went running with tennis balls in their mouths into another room. He indicated to me that I needed to rub my wrist with my other hand to repair it. I did and it seemed to work.

me: "What is this house? Who made it?"

The youth looked amused and gestured my attention to a row of green apples on the counter.

indian youth: "Do you believe Adam's apple has... a long, long lineage?"

me: "Yes, I suppose. But what I'm asking is, are you seeing this room as I'm seeing it? Or does it exist more abstractly, and I'm merely reinterpreting it through my notion of a house? Is the human form an interface for you?"

indian youth: "All this was built by Him. Because He is the only one there is."

me: "All right, we are all one, sure. But..."

I moved a metal thing that had sort of a rough texture a few inches on the counter.

me: "Even if I'm just a piece of God, I--as some bit of God--find it useful to model the part of me that moved that differently."

A man with white hair approached me and he had a cartoon on a transparency sheet, printed in red. I never saw the cartoon itself. He leaned against the wall and had a pondering, philosophical look.

cartoon guy: (slowly) "I think... well, I think I have the right way of saying this to you."

me: "Please make it quicker, there's not much time."

cartoon guy: "You've got it right. There's one being, broken down into systems, each with a different function. But sleep is needed. Yet it is not efficient to leave a man unused for 6-13 hours every day. You are seeing some of these other applications."

me: "Okay, I've had this theory--multitasking. My brain is being borrowed in my sleep to do God's work, or, something. So please, if it speeds it up, assume I already know about multitasking and context-switching."

cartoon guy: "Yes, well, you are 'special'...but...what we really need from you now--not that we have to focus on this tonight if you are not up for it--is something from your soul-mate... your soul-bond partner."

me: "Who would that be? I mean, is this someone I can find? A person I already know?"

Some people came in with paper, and tried to communicate a name to me.

someone: "Cerul."

Note
I interpreted this for a time as the idea of my "soul-mate", e.g. the notion of there being some girl out there on the planet destined for me. However, this name has been used in other contexts to refer to me, e.g. suggesting that perhaps it's not a person I can find but an ethereal being that works with me in some internal sense. Thrown off by the context and it being an answer I truly did not expect, I decided that perhaps I'd been misinterpreting it and it's the name of someone on Earth. Looking back, it seems like maybe they're saying--well, we're trying to talk to another part of you--a soul partnered with your body. The rest of my line of questioning was on the person-thing, however.

me: "Maybe, a first name? Can you give me an age, location?"

someone: "Zabra."

me: "Zabra?"

someone: "No, not Zabra. Sandra."

me: "Sandra? Let's do spellings. S-A-N-D-R-A?"

someone: "No, no... it... you had it with the 'Z' but the rest... argh. There was a book published recently under this name, it was popular."

I was called into the next room by someone who suggested I drink as much water as I could. We filled a couple glasses from the tap, and I returned to ask about the name. They looked like they had something, but I woke up before I could get it.

Currently I am experimenting with using Disqus for comments, however it is configured that you don't have to log in or tie it to an account. Simply check the "I'd rather post as a guest" button after clicking in the spot to type in a name.

The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the
words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction
—in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to
be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be
crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less
disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?